Invictus
by SheegothBait
Summary: In an AU where turians aren't recognized as sentient, C-Sec investigator Amanda Shepard is trying to track down a smuggling ring. What she finds behind it is an explosive secret, jealously guarded, that must be revealed carefully lest it destroy the well-kept peace between the Council races. Unfortunately, the rest of the galaxy doesn't share her cautious nature... No Reapers
1. Investigation

The squad car pulled up to the warehouse, and Shepard had to admit she had never seen a more ugly or run-down place in her life: the building looked like it had been abandoned for several years, then overtaken by squatters. She jumped out, followed by two other humans, and the smell of garbage hit her smack in the face. Someone had based an illegal _live animal dealership_ here _?_ It would barely be clean enough for scrap storage, let alone for animals. She resisted the urge to gag as she moved over to the filth-spattered door and scanned for explosive devices. Finding nothing, she motioned the two men forward, and one of them smashed in the door.

A horrible smell met her nostrils as she and the men moved into the building; stale smoke and spoiled food. She gritted her teeth, wrinkled her nose, and kept going. The rooms looked mostly empty, but a few had broken or hacked-up furniture in them. Empty liquor bottles and greasy wrappings from fried food lay scattered about the rooms like leaves after a storm. The walls might have once been white, but now were gray with stains splattered across them from various substances, one of which looked suspiciously like red sand. She ran down a small staircase that led to a tiny, stinking cellar lined with bulging garbage bags. She sighed and holstered her pistol, scooping up a gutted, ancient datapad. Whoever had inhabited this building was long gone, and with them, any information that C-Sec could have used to track them down.

She tossed the datapad back on the floor, where it fell with a clatter that made her wince. She turned ant put her foot on the bottom step when she heard the desperate whine. She whipped around, but saw nothing. Wary, she paced the room, tapping the wall panels, searching. Her armored glove knocked against a hollow section and she stepped back, raising her pistol, and kicked it as hard as she could. The panel gave in with a crunch, plaster dust flying everywhere. The smell of week-old urine and feces made her gag, but her aim remained steady as she pointed her weapon at the single figure cast into sharp contrast by her flashlight.

"Freeze!" she barked, then realized that there was no need to shout. A filthy, frightened turian cowered in the beam of the flashlight, its arms thrown over its face. It growled at her, but its growls sounded thin and high-pitched, on the edge of a whine. She quickly lowered the pistol, careful to stay out of reach of its talons.

"Hey, hey. It's okay big guy. I'm not gonna hurt you." She panned the light around, but didn't see much. The room was completely bare without so much as a pile of rags for the turian to sleep on. The floor squelched faintly beneath her boots, and she realized she stepped in sewage. Her stomach roiled threateningly, and she dry-swallowed, looking back at the turian. The poor thing had been _sleeping_ in these conditions? She edged closer, looking the animal up and down. Its ribs showed through its hide, its plates scuffed and discolored, probably from malnutrition. Where it wasn't covered in its own filth, its unplated skin showed bruises and cuts, some of which appeared to be infected. The turian had been abused and starved, by the look of things. She needed to get it out of here, but would it let her?

Shepard dug in her pocket and produced a compact cube of some meat substance, what the pet store sold as "turian treats". They smelled absolutely vile, but the stench around her drowned out the odor. It got the turian's attention, however, and its growls cut off as it turned to her and sniffed at the "food". It stepped toward her, but didn't grab the treat, and she realized it was standing at the end of a taut chain so coated in mess that she could barely distinguish the links from the back wall. The turian whined, looking longingly at the food. She edged closer, and the animal moved. It snatched the food from her grasp, lightning-fast and retreated with its prize, growling, then pressed a dirty hand to its mouth and gulped the cube down without chewing. She stared disbelievingly, and it met her gaze, growling slightly. Its growl sounded different, more of a warning than any actual aggression. She noticed how intensely blue the turian's eyes were, and the animal's gaze unnerved her. She distracted it with another treat, which it took even more readily than before, and got a better look at the collar on its neck. A scratched steel ring ran around the turian's throat, protecting a thick chain that tightened when the turian pulled at it. The collar held together with a crude but efficient magnetic lock that she felt sure she could hack if the turian would just _hold still._ The animal had withdrawn again and crouched against the back wall, its teeth bared.

"Hey big guy. It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you."

The turian let out a low growl, but stopped when she stopped talking. She sighed and offered her last treat, which the turian took without hesitation. She reached up and stroked its neck while it was distracted, and the animal's soft growl leapt up into a wicked snarl. The turian whipped around, its teeth fully bared and glinting menacingly, then suddenly stopped, tilting its head. Its mandibles pulled back against its face, and she reached out again, not daring to touch it. It studied her fingers for a long moment, then put its head down and brushed her palm with the ridge of its brow. Her heart thundered in her chest. She'd never seen a turian do this. She didn't know what it meant, but she knew if the turian hadn't attacked her, then this gesture was probably a good sign.

"See, buddy? It's okay. I'm here to help."

The turian moved forward a bit so she could reach its neck and bobbed its head so that her fingers brushed its skin in a back-and forth motion. This gesture was crystal clear: _more, please_. She held her breath and ran a hand along the plates on its neck. The turian closed its bright, piercing eyes for a moment, then nudged her arm.

"What is it, big guy?"

The animal nudged harder, then pawed at its collar. It whined softly at her, its blue eyes begging.

"All right, big guy. Just hold still."

Her omni-tool flared in the dark as she opened her hacking program and scanned the lock on the turian's collar. Before she could electronically interface with the lock, though, she heard feet on the stairs. Her turian leapt away from her and cowered against the wall, snarling as her two squadmates came thundering down into the hidden room, pistols drawn.

"Shepard! Get away from that thing!"

Shepard turned on them, scowling furiously as one of her colleagues trained his weapon on the turian.

"Stop it! You're scaring him!" She didn't know what gender the turian was, but, she didn't particularly care. Calling the turian an "it" wouldn't help get the others' sympathies.

" _We're_ scaring _it?_ Shepard, just listen to it! It sounds like it's about to kill something!"

"Put your damn weapons down! He was fine before you came thundering down here like a pack of rampaging krogan!"

" How can we be sure it won't kill us if we let it off the leash?"

"Because I fed him. He's harmless. Really."

"You _what?_ It could have bitten your hand off!"

"But he didn't."

The man shook his head, but lowered his pistol.

"Do me a favor and pull a leash and collar out of the vehicle. We should get the turian out of here." She paused and glanced at the animal. "Besides, the smell is really getting to me."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

Moving the turian out of the building wasn't too difficult. The turian let Shepard put the nylon collar around its neck with minimal fuss, and it behaved surprisingly well while on the leash, keeping close to Shepard and not pulling. Of course, that may have been because the poor animal was trembling in fear, but at least it wasn't growling or trying to maul her. Getting it into the reinforced crate in the back of the animal control vehicle was a different matter, however. It took half an hour to coax the animal inside, then another half-hour to close the door of the crate without panicking the turian. It seemed extremely reluctant to lose sight of her, even for a moment. Luckily the crate had large openings so that the animal could see out, but when she tried to close the vehicle's back doors on the animal, it started growling and whining and banging around so loudly that she feared it _would_ tear its way out of the crate. She decided to sit in the back and keep the poor thing company.

Now it lay curled up on the vinyl-cushioned crate floor, its head against one of the metal sides of the box, sound asleep. She scratched its neck absentmindedly, careful to avoid its bruises and cuts. The more she looked at the turian, the more injuries she saw under the layer of dirt matting its scales. The poor animal had obviously suffered and needed the rest.

"You're safe now," she murmured. "It's gonna be all right."

At this, the turian lifted its head and blinked sleepily at her. She felt sure it couldn't understand her, but it must have heard her, or it wouldn't have woken up. Maybe it just felt the driver hitting the brakes. Either way, the shout that followed most certainly would have jolted the animal from sleep.

"Hey Shep! We're here. Get that thing ready to go, because I'm not dealing with it."

The turian flinched at the yelling and bared its teeth.

"It's okay, big guy." She soothed. "He's just being loud." She opened the crate, moving slowly for the animal's benefit, and let it look around the loading bay before attaching the animal's leash. She pulled lightly, and the turian followed, looking around. It shifted back and forth, sniffing the air, as though uneasy. She wondered what it could smell even though they hadn't made it inside the vet clinic yet.

She successfully coaxed it inside the back door, though the turian huddled close, its shoulders tense. As she stepped up to the small desk, acknowledging the salarian behind the counter, the turian started growling.

"No." She said firmly. "You be nice."

The animal fell silent as though struck dumb.

"Turian is in need of medical help." The salarian said as she stopped. "Will let one of the vets know." He typed a quick message, then turned back to her and looked the turian up and down. The animal bared its teeth.

"Uneasy around salarians. Asari better to handle this. Sit. Will be with you in a moment."

She led her turian over to the row of hard plastic seats and sat down. Her turain remained standing, looking around with quick, birdlike jerks of its head. Its mandibles drooped, and it appeared to be panting slightly, like an agitated dog.

"Sit, big guy." She told her animal. "Sit."

The turian sat on the floor, surprising her, then looked up at her and let out a low whine. She scratched its neck.

"Hush. It's okay. They're just gonna look at you."

The look the turian gave her was so desperate that it took all her self-control not to get up and walk out. The animal obviously felt threatened by something, but she kept telling herself that the turian needed to be looked at if she wanted to bring it home. She would make the turian stay only as long as necessary. A smiling asari in a white coat appeared and beckoned them back. She gently pulled at the leash, and her turian stood up, trudging after her, its mandibles hanging so low they might have been broken. The animal whined at her again, and she shushed it and scratched its neck.

Once the vet shut them inside a room, she looked up at the turian, smiling.

"He's a big guy," the asari remarked as Shepard prodded her turian up onto the exam table. "He's also a mess."She reached out and scanned the turian with her omni-tool. The turian looked away, tucking his chin into the side of his cowl, his body tensing. Shepard stared. Did he feel _embarrassed?_ Was it _possible_ for the animal to feel embarrassed? She swallowed and dismissed it as a random fluke in behavior.

"Turians can behave gently, but they are big, dangerous animals, and males can get highly protective. This sometimes leads to…incidents."

Shepard let her mind wander, vaguely registering the vet's monologue. It was nothing she hadn't heard before. Maulings were commonplace, even frequent among irresponsible or bad owners. People had died due to the amount of damage inflicted by an angry turian, and usually the animal suffered the consequences. They were big, dangerous animals after all...

She pulled herself back to reality as the vet said something about "in heat" and decided maybe it was a good idea to listen.

"Because of the trigger chemicals involved with…sexual attraction, it is advised that you fix your turian so that he is more docile."

"Are you saying he could become…sexually attracted to me?" Shepard asked in a strained voice.

"In the same way a dog is attracted to an owner, yes. We haven't had a lot of reports of…overexcited animals, but it does happen on rare occasion. Aggressive maulings are far more common. "

"Mmm. I'll think about it." She wasn't keen on the idea. The turian obviously hated this place and wanted to leave, and she felt it would be best to take him home.

"All right." The asari peered at Shepard's turian. "He's been abused, that much is obvious. Looks like he may have lived in that basement for somewhere close to…hmmm, two weeks? Someone starved him severely. I'm surprised he's still standing."

"How long until he can come home?"

"Could take a while. We'll need to look at his injuries too, which right now look pretty bad, but they could just be infected. Why don't you let us look at him and we'll give you a report?"

"All right. Just…be gentle with him, okay?"

The asari gave her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. We'll take care of him."

Shepard nodded and passed the leash end to the asari. She looked at the turian, who stared back at her with bright, mournful eyes. He stood quietly, not pulling, but the look he fixed her with crushed her with its desperation. _Don't leave me here_ , he seemed to be begging her. She had to leave, though, because she already ran late.

Shepard half-turned, but the asari stopped her with a word.

"We may need to do surgery. Nothing major, just to clean out infected wounds."

"Do what you need to, but no more. Now, if you don't mind, I really have to go." Bailey would tear her a new one if she didn't get back soon. Shepard's omni-tool lit up, and she stopped again with an irritated sigh .

"I need you to sign the consent form."

She scrawled a hasty signature, then sent the document back, casting a last glance at the turian.

"I'll be back for you in a few days, big guy. I promise."

The long, low whine he let out when she closed the door behind her lingered in her ears long after she left the clinic.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

 **SheegothBait here! Sorry about temporarily removing this. (I was having account issues.) But anyway, it's back now!**

 **I know that the lack of explanation may be frustrating to some of you, but I promise: everything WILL be explained. Cheers, and I'll see you next chapter.**


	2. Quiet Life

_Complications._ Shepard nursed her head with one hand and a coffee with the other, reflecting on how much she hated the word. They popped up everywhere and had escaped her C-Sec job, sneaking into her life outside work. The vet clinic had notified her three days ago that they would be keeping her turian a little longer than expected due to some minor _complications,_ something about the turian's weight and refusing food. She knew that keeping him locked away wasn't doing him any good. To him, it probably felt too much like the tiny, filthy, dank cellar she'd rescued him from. He seemed to be quite sweet, and she hated to think of him curled up in a cage all day with not enough room to stand up. The office said they would contact her later today, but she hadn't heard back yet, and she was concerned. On top of it all, she still didn't have a lead on the illegal dealer she'd rescued her turian from, and she was working double shifts trying to both fill out her other case files and find a lead. She couldn't focus enough to get any actual work done, though; her mind kept drifting, wandering to her turian, wondering if he was ok, speculating uncomfortably how many more turians were being treated like hers had been.

Her omni-tool lit up, its chime silenced, and she groaned. _No, I don't want to look at another case file right now, thank you._ Her finger hovered over the X when something caught her eye. She looked closer and sat up. The vet clinic's name and extranet address filled the information bar. She opened the message and quickly scanned it.

 _Please come retrieve your turian. He is healthy and ready to go home._

She straightened and grabbed her keys. _Finally._ If nothing else, she could go pick up her new pet.

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"In here." The asari broke her train of thought as she opened a door. This room was smaller and cleaner than the main kennel. The cages stood to the ceiling, though most of the turians here lay curled up on the slightly cushioned floor, their backs to the cage doors. Tags hung from the front of the cages, inviting those wearing omni-tools to scan them for more information about the animal inside. The asari took her straight to the end of the cages and knelt in front of the one second from the end.

"Hey, big guy. Someone's here to see you."

The turian inside shifted sleepily, then settled back down.

"He's a little groggy. He refused food, so we had to drip-feed him for a while, and we put him on a sedative to stop him from pulling the IV out. The drug may take a little while to wear off, but he should be fine."

Shepard knelt and stroked his cowl. "Poor thing."

"I think he was distressed you left. Normally we wouldn't send a turian home like this, but he needs someone who will take good care of him. I'm assuming you're still interested?"

She paused for a moment. This turian acted so sweet, but did she have a right to own him? She remembered the dozens of fish killed by her inattentiveness. Would she really be giving him a better home? Surely someone out there could care for him better…

She felt something nudge her arm, looked down, and felt what little resistance she still held to taking the turian in melt. The turian was nuzzling her elbow, his eyes closed. He'd made her decision for her.

"Yes," she said through the blockage in her throat.

"Try scratching behind his fringe." The asari suggested with a smile.

Her fingers stroked his scales, finding an unusually soft patch of skin. She scratched gently, felt the turian's neck arch beneath her hand. His mandibles fanned out, and he put his head back down. His breathing slowed as he slipped into sleep, completely relaxed. The asari touched her arm.

"If you'll follow me, I need you to fill out his papers before we give you his tags. Besides, he can rest while you work."

Shepard sighed and stood. _Paperwork._ She hated paperwork…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The numbers scrolled by, quickly spiraling to astronomically high levels, and she could only think of how expensive owning the turian would be. The vaccine course alone cost nearly a thousand credits… Still, the vets had already removed the turian's vocal cords. She could now legally own the animal, so it wasn't like she had to bring the turian in later. She signed the last of the paperwork with a sloppy signature. _Finally finished._ She'd had enough paperwork for a month. Well…technically all the data got stored electronically, but she imagined the forms hadn't changed much since they'd switched from paper to digital, if at all. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, more than ready to go home. She needed a break if her mind was wandering this badly. She stood up and handed the datapad back to the desk attendant.

"Thank you." The salarian said, accepting the datapad. He handed her a leash and collar. "Please follow." The salarian nodded to the asari, who had waited for her, and she followed the woman back to where her turian was. He looked up at her from the floor of the cage as the asari unlocked the door and held still while she buckled the collar around his neck. He stood when she pulled lightly, much more alert now, but still a little unsteady on his feet.

"He's remarkably responsive on the leash," the vet noted.

Shepard shrugged. Perhaps he'd been broken to the leash back when the dealers had him, perhaps he was just smart. Either way, she felt quite certain she would be giving him a better place to live.

"Come on, big guy. Let's go home."

The asari waved a cheerful goodbye as they left, but the turian kept touching her, as if to make sure she wasn't going to disappear. She scratched behind his crest, and he leaned into her hand, trembling.

"I'm not going to leave this time, big guy. Don't you worry."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

By the time they got back to Shepard's apartment, evening had fallen. Shepard hadn't completed her shopping, but her turian was clearly exhausted. He seemed to have lost his excitement completely, ignoring even an offered treat and staring dully at the toy rack when they'd stopped by in the pet shop. She chalked his behavior up to the lingering effects of the tranquilizers and finally took him home when he'd nearly fallen asleep against a large stack of floor pillows.

Now he was fast asleep on the couch, curled uncomfortably between the two armrests. She had tried to wake him, with no success. He'd be sore tomorrow, but she wouldn't risk getting bitten. Besides, she wouldn't let him sleep on the bed, and she didn't have a cushion for him to sleep on. It was the best she could do for now.

She thumbed through the online store, looking for turian food and toys. She'd already purchased a thick floor pillow from another site, and she hadn't been able to get food for him before he nearly fell asleep inside the store. The thought made her cringe, embarrassed. She should have taken him straight home. Maybe her intuition was right. Maybe he shouldn't have adopted him… She cast another glance at him. He didn't seem to be uncomfortable, but again, he was probably still sedated. She glanced at the time and yawned. _Nearly three…_ She should go to bed soon. She had a long day tomorrow.

With a few button presses, she finalized her purchases and authorized home delivery. She shut down her terminal and headed to bed, where she collapsed and almost instantly fell asleep.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

She bolted upright, awakening from a very strange dream, breath heaving and grabbed for the knife hidden under her pillow. She listened carefully for a long moment, but heard nothing. As she lay down though, the noise came again. Someone was knocking at her bedroom door. She leapt out of bed and stealthily crossed to the door, knife in hand, and was just about to open the door when she remembered she had brought home a turian. _Shit!_ She quickly stowed the knife and opened the door, revealing her turian staring down at her. She could see only the reflectiveness of his eyes and the faint shimmer of his plates, and he appeared almost ghostlike in the poor lighting.

"Jesus, big guy, you gave me a scare." She scratched behind his cowl as she flipped on the lights. He squinted against the light, his mandibles fanned out. He opened and closed his jaw a few times, his throat working in what might have been a whine, then ducked his head, his eyes deep and incredibly expressive for an animal. He pawed at his collar.

"What?" His gaze was completely crushing her, but she couldn't tell what he wanted. A second later, he tapped at his stomach, erasing any uncertainty as to what he wanted.

"Shit. I forgot to feed you. See, this is why I don't keep pets."

She wandered into the kitchen, followed closely by her turian, who pawed at her as she rubbed the last of the sleep from her eyes. She gently pushed him away.

"Yes, yes. I know. I'm going."

She dug through her fridge, found nothing, then turned to the pantry and pulled out a sterilized pouch of fruit puree that she kept around for Tali. She twisted the top off and handed it to the turian, who took it and gave it a look that appeared almost dismayed. She didn't blame him; the stuff didn't smell particularly good, like slightly rotten flowers.

"I know it's not much, but your other food is coming in. Sorry, big guy."

His mandibles drooped, but he gave it a tentative lick, the tip of his long tongue darting in and out like a cat's. He paused a moment, smacking his tongue, then surprisingly squeezed the rest of the pouch into his mouth and swallowed, then looked expectantly at her for more.

"No, no more for now." She told him firmly. The puree was pricey, and she only got it because Tali liked it. He gave her a round-eyed look, reminiscent of puppies trying to beg, and whined a little.

"No," she said, this time more firmly. He touched his chin to his cowl, looking defeated, but followed her back to bed. "Good thing I have actual food coming in for you, or you would probably try to eat the drywall after you finished the food." She mumbled to herself. He whimpered again as she settled back into bed, and she noticed he was trembling lightly. She sighed, pity welling up inside her, then stood up again and pulled out the warmest blanket she could find, laying it out on the couch for her turian. He put a hand on the blanket, then climbed up on the couch and curled up on it, blinking up at her.

"Your bed's coming, bud. Hold on." She scratched him lightly, then moved away, suppressing a massive yawn. She collapsed into bed with a relaxed sigh and almost instantly fell asleep.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

She awoke the next morning and wandered into the living room to discover the turian had made himself a nest of blankets and pillows in the middle of the floor. He shifted and looked up at her as she entered.

"Morning, bu…" She stopped as she drew into sight-line of the kitchen.

It was completely trashed. Crumpled packets of the puree oozed congealed remains of fruit sauce across the counters, turning the surfaces into a gooey mess. The smell it was giving off turned her stomach; that decaying flower smell apparently got stronger with heat and age. _Much_ stronger. As in she could smell it from where she stood. She put a sleeve over her mouth and glanced down at the turian, who was cowering down in his nest, his mandibles drooping and his eyes pleading. She pointed to the mess.

"No." She said firmly, crossing to the kitchen counter and pulling out cleaning supplies. The goop had dried to the counter, forcing her to soak it in cleaner before wiping it away. She wearily disposed of the remnants, then set about preparing coffee. She turned back to her turian as the pot of water began to heat. He was still trembling against the cushions, peering up at her. _I was just hungry,_ he seemed to say. _Please don't hurt me._

"I know you were hungry, buddy. I'm sorry I don't have any food yet. It's coming, though." She told him quietly, holding out a hand. He allowed her to scratch gently behind his cowl, though he still watched her warily. The coffee maker chimed, and she stood and poured herself a cup. As she pulled out the creamer, though, the doorbell rang. She let out a soft curse and answered the chime's summons.

A batarian in a uniform stood on the front steps, an array of packages at his feet. He held out a datapad in one hand.

"Erin Shepard?"

"Yes."

"Sign, please."

She took the datapad and noticed the batarian's gaze had shifted to somewhere behind her.

"That's a big one." He said, motioning towards the turian still curled up in the middle of the living room. She glanced back at the turian herself. The animal was peering over the edge of the nest, like a cat crouching on a bookshelf. _Trembling?_ Why was he trembling?

"Yeah."

"Hope you can control it. There have been more maulings than usual of late."

She grimaced in distaste. "I know. I worked for Citadel Animal Control. I am perfectly aware of the risks."

The batarian grunted and took the datapad. " Good day, ma'am."

"Same to you." It was a polite nothing. She generally didn't like batarians; they always played to their own interests, wanting something in return for help. She suspected that was the only reason they had ever gotten onto the Council was their insistence that they get a spot in exchange for their help during the Krogan Rebellions. The Council had been so desperate at that point that they had agreed to the terms, and though the Hegemony hadn't caused any serious issues, it was common knowledge that they were always jockeying for a better deal.

She gathered up the packages and brought them inside, juggling the six bags and enormous fluffy pillow as best she could. One of the bags fell from her arms, and she cursed as the paper split, releasing a tidal wave of grooming products, treat boxes, and care booklets all over the floor. She went into the kitchen and deposited her purchases, dragging the enormous floor pillow back with her. Her turian was pawing through the mess of pillows and goods on the floor and she saw one of the treat packages already sticking out from underneath his makeshift nest.

She scolded him sharply, and he retreated and lay on the new pillow, his head down and mandibles drooping. His expression struck her as so funny that it jolted her out of her bad mood.

"What?" She asked. "Are you really that upset, big guy?"

He let out a deep, depressed-sounding sigh, looking up at her mournfully. She shook her head and turned away from him, then tore open a bag of kibble and poured it into his new bowl.

"Here, boy. You must be hungry." She carried it into the living room and quickly put it down by his bed. The smell emanating from it was like dry cat food, but five times as strong, pungent enough to make her gag. He seemed to like it, though, because a second later he had grabbed the bowl, crunching down the shredded-wheat-like blocks as though he had never seen food before in his life. She looked at him in concern. He really was just skin and bones, poor thing.

She began to gather up the mess in the living room, grabbing the treat packages first so that her turian wouldn't gorge himself on them and become sick. She returned to the kitchen with her hands full and began to take inventory, hiding the turian's food and treats in a lower cabinet. The toys and scratching post were all there, as were her five bags of food and various treats. The thick pillow was, of course, accounted for, and her turian seemed to like it. Good, because the thing had been bloody expensive. She assumed the rest of the stuff she'd picked up was still strewn all over the living room. At the bottom of one of the bags, however, she found something she very definitely did _not_ order.

It was a collar with metal prongs that clearly faced inward when the collar was fastened. The prongs were little more than rounded pegs, not designed to gouge, attached to a battery pack. A small remote sat nestled next to the collar, just below a bubble claiming that use of the product would stop destructive behavior in pets in a few days. She looked at the thing, scandalized. However effective the disciplinary device might be, it was still a shock collar that sent voltage directly into an animal's sensitive neck. She saw a lot of turians wearing them, but she would never suggest using a shock collar on a well-behaved turian. She remembered vaguely the advertisement of "buy 500 credits worth of products, get an item free!" on the site she'd bought everything from. The 75-credit value on said item must have caught her attention, and they must have assumed, since she hadn't purchased one, that she needed one.

Bile rose in her throat. She tossed the collar, package and all, in the garbage. She wasn't that kind of person and she never intended to use the device. Her poor turian had dealt with enough abuse to last him a lifetime. A thought suddenly struck her. She didn't have a name for him yet. She looked around, trying to find the naming book she'd purchased, then realized it must still be buried under the pile of mess in the living room.

She began to tidy up, searching for the misplaced item, her cooling coffee in one hand. She was beginning to wonder if the company had just forgotten to include it when she spotted it, half-hidden underneath the turian's floor pillow. She pulled it out, her eyes flickering over the pages, then read some of the names. She stopped as her turian perked up, the happiest he'd seen her since she'd found him.

"Garrus? You like that name?"

He blinked at her and flicked his mandibles.

"Garrus." She liked the name too. She clearly had his attention.

"Come here, Garrus."

He stood up and approached.

"Good boy, Garrus." She praised, reaching up and scratching his neck. He leaned into her touch, eyes half-closed. "Yes, good boy."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

"Garrus, I'm home!" She hollered. He came trotting out of the bedroom to meet her, his new tags jingling around his neck as she tossed her shuttle keys on the counter.

"Hey, buddy. Did you have a good day? Hm?" She asked, scratching at his neck. He fluttered his mandibles, his eyes half-closed. He was probably just bored; he'd been locked in the apartment all day for the past four days, and she hadn't been able to take him out for a walk. Someone had trained him to use the bathroom, so she didn't have to worry about him dirtying the floors (thank the gods), but boredom might have caused him to become destructive. Fortunately, today she'd come home a little early. She pulled his leash down from the coat rack and tried to hook it to the turian's collar while he squirmed with pent-up energy.

"All right, come on."

She opened the door and immediately realized she'd made a mistake. Taking a turian for a walk, as it turned out, was more like being dragged behind a horse, as Garrus surged forward, almost yanking her off her feet with the suddenness of his movement. She recovered enough to stop herself from pulling on his collar and choking him, but only just. He continued forward at the same relentless pace, giving just enough slack to not strangle himself. She had to run to keep up as he strained at the leash. She scolded him and pulled at the leash; he slowed slightly, but she still had to jog to keep up with him.

An hour and innumerable corrections later, she was bent double in front of the apartment door, struggling to get enough air. Her turian, on the other hand, wasn't even breathing heavily. He looked at her with something that might have been concern and nudged her. She shook herself and straightened, unlocking the door. She wasn't even in shape enough to keep a turian; she'd have to start pushing her limits at the gym.

She filled Garrus' food bowl, took a shower, then re-entered the kitchen, hair still dripping. Garrus hadn't eaten and was just pushing the food around.

"Go on, Garrus," she told him gesturing to the bowl, "Food eat."

He looked up at her and flicked his mandibles, then nudged the pieces with a finger again.

"What's the matter? Not hungry?"

He sighed. She scratched his neck, trying to please him. He'd eat when he was hungry, or at least that's what she'd read from the manuals. She prepared her own meal and watched him wander around the apartment, poking at things and completely ignoring his food bowl. She cleaned up the dishes then flipped on the TV, hoping to catch the news or a cooking show or anything to get her mind off the series of nasty murders she was investigating at work. Garrus joined her, peering over her shoulder. A reporter Shepard recognized as Khalisa Bin Al-Jilani was interviewing a quarian. She scowled. She didn't like Al-Jilani that much, due to the woman's tendency to twist information and to pry into matters that _certainly_ weren't any of her business, news agent or not. Bailey had been forced to deal with the reporter more than once, and described the experience as "nightmarishly bad". The quarian, Xen, seemed to be handling it well, as she remained composed even as Jilani grilled her about the supply shortage the Flotilla had been experiencing.

"So what does the Flotilla need?" Jilani asked.

"Ship plating, spare parts, some weapons. Food mostly, though. "

"Didn't you put in a request for those same items a few months ago? Surely with all the spare ships you've salvaged over the years you are able to at least make a profit and _buy_ what you need." Jilani told her skeptically.

"Well, that costs _money,_ " Xen explained slowly, as though she was speaking to a confused child. The audience laughed. "The Council still has not lifted its trade embargo against the Flotilla, and we do not have much else to give besides our knowledge of virtual and artificial intelligences. After Rannoch, though, it is difficult to sell our knowledge. So I'm sure an intelligent woman like you can understand our predicament." Another wave of laughter. Shepard chuckled, deciding she liked Xen.

"So what _is_ happening to the rest of your supplies?"

Xen sighed, no longer amused. "The Flotilla's strength is in its numbers. If the ships stay together, they're safe, but the moment one wanders away from the fleet, they're vulnerable to pirates. And because our cargo ships must venture out to resupply, they often become targets of raids." She shifted, turning almost to face the camera. "We need help to defend ourselves, and our only option is to ask the Council for their assistance."

Jilani smiled hollowly, nodding through the explanations and plea for help Xen was giving. "Thank you, Admiral, but I'm afraid we're out of time." Dazzling fake smile to the camera. "Next: An interview on the tercentennial anniversary of the Hegemony's discovery of Palaven and the galaxy's most intelligent pets!"

Shepard started as a ripping sound rent the air. Garrus was gripping the back of the sofa with enough force to puncture the worn fabric with his talons.

"Easy, big guy." She didn't know what had spooked him, but she felt a little leery of him now that he had shredded her furniture. She would have to file his talons down tomorrow so there wouldn't be any more accidents. She checked the time and turned off the TV. She wasn't interested in hearing some batarian's recount of what happened three hundred years ago anyway.

"Come on, Garrus. Bed time."

She passed his food bowl and noticed he still hadn't eaten. She turned and looked up at him with a worried expression. Why wasn't he eating his food? Did she need to take him to the vet again?

"Are you feeling sick? What's wrong?"

He snorted softly, but she had no idea what that meant. His expression looked half-bored, half-exhausted. Maybe he was sick...But he had seemed quite energetic earlier… She made a mental note to call the vet's office tomorrow and figure out whether or not this was normal. Right now, she needed to sleep so she could function tomorrow. She bid the turian good night and shut the door as gently as she could on him. She felt exhausted from her run, but her thoughts were racing, and she didn't fall asleep until after one.

 **A/N: Kind of a mundane chapter, but it will pick up next time quite a bit.**


	3. Foreign Relations

She jerked awake, blinking at the luminous numbers on her clock. _4:30_. She shifted beneath her covers, her mind still half-fogged from sleep. _Dammit._ She closed her eyes again, intending to try once more to find rest, but a sudden crash from outside made her jerk upright. _Intruders_. She yanked her knife from underneath her pillow, then crept to the desk and retrieved the pistol she kept there. She carefully opened the door, which slid aside in silence.

The apartment was nearly pitch-black, except for some light coming from the kitchen. She stepped further into the apartment, her nerves jangling jarringly against the quiet of the room. She made out hushed conversation, and she stopped to listen.

"…here to help. We can take you to-"

Gravity reversed itself. One moment she stood upright, the next she was sprawled on the carpet, her head ringing. A weight pressed hard into her stomach, and she was dazzled by an incredibly bright flashlight. She threw her hands up in front of her face, trying to block enough light so she could see the hulking figure standing on her.

"Who-"

The boot pressed harder. Pain shot up into her chest, stopping her words.

"Shut up." The figure snarled. A scrabbling noise came from the kitchen, and a blue flash briefly illuminated the scene.

Two turians lay sprawled on top of one another on the tile floor, blue blood running down the stranger's striped face and dripping onto Garrus' cheek. They seemed disoriented. A third pale turian stood over her, weapon pointed at her head. Garrus made a clumsy lunge for her, but the striped turian grabbed his cowl and yanked him down again, using the momentum to get to his feet.

"Leave her-" The stranger began.

"She has perpetuated the _lies_ the batarian slime is spewing about us. She deserves no better than _they_ do."

"That's not fair. She didn't know-" She heard more scuffling and assumed the other turian was trying to hold Garrus back.

" _No!_ No more excuses, Kryik!"

Shock numbed her insides as she took in this conversation. _My god…._ Turians….were _intelligent_. And the majority of the galaxy was keeping them as pets. Her stomach shifted threateningly. _Monstrous_ didn't even begin to describe what the batarians had started. And what she had done…letting the "vets" remove his vocal cords…Nausea swept over her; she was barely aware of the two turians arguing over whether or not she should live. All she could think about was the numerous people she'd seen on the Presidium, walking their "pets" on leashes. Thousands of people were treating turian children and adults as less than slaves. This wasn't just a hate crime or series of hate crimes; this was a goddamn galactic conspiracy. And now the turians were going to kill her because they thought she was contributing to the problem. _No…_ She didn't want this. She would _never_ want this _._ And, as she saw the turian's finger tighten on the trigger of his gun, she knew she'd never get a chance to explain.

"Ouch! No, Garrus!"

The lights flashed on, making all three of the turians recoil. Shepard grabbed the ankle of the turian standing on her and yanked. He lost his footing and toppled. Garrus tackled the stranger in the kitchen, and Shepard lunged for her pistol. She bit back a scream as a hammer-like blow struck her shoulder and tumbled the floor again. The sound of splintering wood resounded from the kitchen, and silence fell. The armed stranger stared down at her with unrestrained loathing. His narrowed eyes and bared teeth looked like something out of a horror vid. He leveled his weapon at her head once more.

" _No_! The Hierarchs may want to question her!"

"We came here for the boy, Kryik, _not_ to find recruits!" Her attacker hissed.

"Don't hurt Gar-" She murmured, determined to make sure that if she died, he would at least be okay.

"Shut _up,_ human!" The pale turian snarled, cutting her off with a savage kick. Her breath rushed from her body, leaving her gasping for breath. A pained hiss came from the kitchen, and something broke.

"Watch it!" Kryik shouted.

A silvery blur slammed into her attacker, knocking him off his feet. Garrus skidded to a stop standing over her, arms spread, planting himself between the strangers' guns and her. Garrus' gaze flicked between the two of them as they stood, his teeth bared. The striped turian barked something to the pale one, who growled viciously but backed off.

"It's all right, Garrus." She told him as she got to her feet. Her shoulder wasn't bleeding, which had to mean the two others were using concussive rounds only. He glanced back at her and flicked his mandibles. "I'm fine," she reassured him, mortified that he was naked for the first time.

"Human," she looked over at Kryik, who had come out from behind the counter. Garrus backed up, keeping himself between her and the striped turian.

"Listen to me," the striped turian implored, keeping his distance. "This turian," he gestured to Garrus, "is the son of someone very important. We've come to take him home."

Nausea rose inside her again. _Fucks' sakes…._ Someone's son. Of course he was. He'd picked out his name, he'd alerted his family to his presence, he'd called these strangers here. And now he refused to leave without her.

"Garrus, you need to go with them. You have family. You-"

She stopped. He was shaking his head hard, like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

"No? Garrus, please-"

He shook his head harder.

"He can't make this decision." The pale turian growled. "He doesn't know what he's saying."

It was true, Shepard realized. How long had Garrus been missing from his family, and what had the slavers driven into his head since?

"But the truth remains he is attached to her, and she sympathizes with his situation. She could be useful. " Kryik chimed in. He met Shepard's gaze. "Human, if we take you with us, you won't make trouble, will you?"

Shepard shook her head. "No."

The other hissed venomously, then turned on his heel. "It's _your_ problem, Kryik. _You_ deal with it," he snarled over his shoulder, then stormed from the apartment.

"I apologize for him, but he has a lot of reasons to be suspicious of humans." Kryik told her, coming forward. Garrus let her off the wall, still watching the striped turian cautiously. "Gather your things and meet me here, but make it fast. He won't wait long."

Shepard nodded and made a beeline for her bedroom, hastily stuffing her duffel bag with a few clothing items. She looked over her room, trying to decide what else she might want to take. _Seriously? I have no pictures of home?_ Her eyes fell on the terminal, and the thought of calling for help flitted across her mind. These turians were, after all, essentially kidnapping her…

"Human?" Kryik called from the other room.

 _No. I can't, now that I know…._ She tossed in her toothbrush, then re-entered the living room. Kryik stood in the middle of the room, with Garrus standing guard close by the bedroom door. He was watching the striped turian with something akin to unease.

"Take her bag," Kryik instructed him. Shepard held it out to Garrus, who reluctantly grabbed it.

"Come here, human." He beckoned to her, and she approached. Garrus shifted in her peripheral, clearly uncomfortable.

"Kneel down."

A twinge of unease flashed through her. She knew this was a test of her obedience, but if Kryik suddenly made a move on her, she'd have difficulty reacting while on her knees. Still, he had advocated for her… She forced her nerves down and got to her knees. Kryik tilted her chin up with one finger, and she looked into his emerald eyes.

"We can't have you knowing our location. I've got to knock you out if you want to come along."

She swallowed. "Do what you have to." She said, with more conviction than she felt. Kryik nodded and pulled an auto-inject medicine canister from his belt. She heard shifting behind her.

"She'll be fine, Garrus. She's just going to sleep for a little while." The striped turian told him.

He tilted her chin down and to the side, exposing her jugular, then pressed the canister to her neck. She flinched as she felt a brief, sharp pain, and then the site went numb. A wave of dizziness washed over her, and the earth seemed to move, tipping her forward into the striped turian's grasp.

"Easy…" He murmured, catching her gently.

She wanted to push away from him, but she couldn't find the strength to move. Her vision winked out like a dying star.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

She opened her heavy eyelids with effort and blinked several times, trying to clear her foggy vision. Her limbs felt heavy and numb, her mouth dry, her thoughts slow and fuzzy. She lay in someone's arms, her head resting against the person's chest. A slight jolt ran through her as she made out the figure's features and realized the person was her turian.

"Garrus?" She mumbled.

He glanced down at her briefly. She looked around, trying to make sense of the situation. She lay in Garrus' arms as he sat adjacent to the striped turian in the cramped seating area. The back of the ship, over her right shoulder, was crammed with cargo, meaning that the vessel was tiny. Those crates wouldn't be there on a larger vessel.

"Resilient little thing, aren't you? Didn't expect you to wake up so soon."

She looked over at the speaker. The striped turian was grinning at her.

"Kryik, is she awake _again?_ " A voice snapped from nearby. She craned her head around and saw the other turian scowling at Kryik from the pilot's seat.

"She's _fine_." The striped turian insisted. "She-"

" _No_ , she's _not_ fine." The pale turian growled, cutting across him. "I told you; I don't want to have to deal with her."

"I doubt she knows where we are from the small patch of stars she can see out the window. She's not a navigator. We're nearly there, anyway."

"I don't _care_ how close we are. Any information is dangerous, Kryik. Put her out again."

 _Asshole,_ Shepard thought.

"She's already had two doses. Any more, and she might get sick. You don't want to have to clean up after her, do you?"

The pale turian snarled viciously and spat something in another language, but Kryik didn't make a move towards Shepard. She watched him for a long minute, and he reciprocally studied her.

"You know, Garrus refused to let anyone else carry you." He mused. Shepard gave him a confused glance, then looked up at Garrus.

"Why, big guy?" She asked. He opened his mouth as if to respond, then shook his head and flicked his mandibles. She felt her stomach turn over, feeling suddenly very small in his arms. "I'm sorry. I-"

The striped turian shot her a warning look, and she was so taken aback that she fell silent. She gave him a bewildered expression, and he flicked a mandible towards the cockpit, indicating the broad back of the pale turian seated in the pilot's chair as he leaned forward. He spoke to the console in a language Shepard had never heard before, casting a sharp glance back at her when he noticed her watching. She didn't hear the response, but he reverted back to Basic after the short exchange.

"…Yes. The three of us," his jawline visibly tightened, "and one prisoner. I need a security detail to meet us by the docks."

"The Vakarians might also want to be there,"Kryik chimed in. "They haven't seen their son in," he shot Shepard a funny look, "…quite a while."

The pilot bared his teeth but reluctantly relayed the information.

"So, are you his boss?" Shepard asked. The striped turian snorted.

"Hardly. I'm just here to remind him that we turians need families, too."

"That's _enough_ , Kryik." The pilot's voice had gone dangerously flat, like a man trying his utmost to control his rising anger. There was no heat to his words, but Shepard felt a menacing chill spread through the air. The striped turian went very quiet, seemingly shrinking in his seat, and Shepard got the feeling Kryik had maybe pushed him too far. There was an undeniable edge of _I_ will _kill you later_ to the other's voice, and Shepard got the feeling she'd been absurdly lucky to escape the pale turian's bullets.

She took his cue and did not break the silence, doing her best to push aside thoughts of what might come next. She hadn't really thought it over, but now the possibilities loomed as inevitably as the model-sized ships that had appeared among the field of stars. They could very well just kill her as revenge, facts be damned. She sincerely doubted that all turians were as kind or trusting as Garrus or Kryik, and she wasn't looking forward to her reception.

Two arrowhead-shaped fighters streaked past them, headed for the ships in the distance. The pilot followed them, and Shepard marveled as the big ships loomed closer, swallowing the field of distant suns with their sheer size. Though they had a patched-together look to them, they had to be three times the size of the _Destiny Ascension_. The main cannon's bore on the closest one was so big that she was pretty sure they could fly inside without scraping the shuttle's sides.

The stars vanished as the hull of one of these ships filled the windows. Shepard tensed, not at all eager to set foot aboard. Their ship slowed, then stopped, hovering underneath the monstrous vessel. The tiny ship shuddered, and a loud clang reverberated through interior as it was gripped by the docking clamps. The pale turian got up from his seat and vanished through the airlock, stopping only a moment to give Kryik a _look._ The striped turian sighed and stood, then motioned for her to do the same. Garrus stood up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders protectively as Kryik approached her with a set of handcuffs.

"Sorry, human, but this is just protocol until we figure out what to do with you." He apologized. She mutely accepted his apology and stretched out her hands. She didn't think the cuffs were necessary, but she knew that he could always just shoot her if she made trouble. The sensation of the cold metal closing around her wrists made her stomach clench, but she didn't move until he had finished.

"I still don't know your name," He mused, examining her face.

"Erin Shepard." She responded cautiously. He gave her a short nod.

"Nihlus Kryik. Nice to meet you. Wish it could be under better circumstances. We'll get this sorted out, though." He sighed. "But you should get going. They're waiting for us."

He led her out into the docking bay, and she looked around. The bay was so large that she couldn't make out the far end, and it was crammed with crates and ships and shuttles of all sizes. By comparison, the three turians that served as a reception party seemed like ants. Nihlus drew her aside so she wouldn't block Garrus' way. One of them, with blue markings, noticed them first. He took a couple steps towards them, then stopped, staring at Garrus incredulously.

"Garrus? Is that you?"

Garrus went very still.

"Son?"

Shepard felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. _Garrus' father…Oh fuck_ didn't even begin to cover it. Garrus stood frozen as his father approached and reached out a hand, gently touching his face.

"Do you remember me, Garrus?"

Garrus blinked at him.

"Say something. Please." The man begged. "Don't you recognize me?"

Garrus couldn't answer, but after a moment of deliberation, stepped forward. His father gently took him in his arms, pressing his face into Garrus' shoulder.

"My boy….I'm so, so, so sorry." He murmured, his voice breaking. Shepard looked away, mortified that she was witnessing this. She wished she could escape this scene, but Nihlus held her arm tightly, and he would make her sit there and watch this and take whatever abuse Garrus' father dealt. And she felt certain it was coming. Based on Garrus' father's reaction, it had been a while since he'd seen his son.

"I looked for you for years before I just…gave up. I thought you were dead. I…I shouldn't have stopped looking." Garrus' father looked up at his son. "I haven't seen you in thirty years…Spirits…"

Shepard's stomach did a somersault, and she felt her knees tremble. _Thirty years…_ Garrus had been missing for thirty years? His family was going to _crucify_ her. She edged farther behind Nihlus, trying to hide herself. He gave her a sharp glance, apparently convinced himself she wasn't going to be a problem, and pointedly turned back towards the scene.

Another turian appeared, also wearing Garrus' father's markings, her short fringe and slighter figure giving her away as a female. Garrus' father looked up, noticed her, and beckoned her closer.

"Solanna, I want you to meet your brother."

Solanna stepped closer, analyzing Garrus' face.

"Hi." She said, head cocked to one side.

Garrus flicked his mandibles.

"Solanna, he's mute. He can't respond." Nihlus informed her softly.

Solanna glanced up, alarmed, and her gaze landed on Shepard. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and she pushed past her father, making a beeline for Shepard. Garrus' father caught the back of her cowl, stopping her short. She whirled on him, knocking his hand aside, mandibles flared.

"You would defend this.. this…" Solana gaped at him, speechless with rage.

"I am aware of what this human has done," Garrus' father said coldly. "She'll face trial, and if she's really done anything wrong, she _will_ pay for it. And if the guards find her anywhere other than her cell beforehand, they'll kill her. You'll get your say, Solanna. She's not worth the effort right now." He took the turian woman's arm and turned her away, then beckoned to Garrus to follow. The turian hesitated, looking back at Shepard.

"Go, Garrus. I'll be fine."

Solanna hissed at her as she followed her father and brother out of the hangar bay. Nihlus swung Shepard to face him, looking intently at her.

"Do you understand now why this has to stop? It's not just wrong, it's destroying families. It's destroying our entire _culture_. "

Shepard glanced back at the leaving turians. "This is unbelievable," she murmured. "I never thought…I never expected…If I knew, I would have put my foot down." She met Nihlus' gaze. "I would never advocate for this. _Ever._ This is…" She shook her head, speechless. "I'm so sorry for your people, Nihlus. I am."

"You will help us fight if we give you the chance?"

"Yes."

"Come on, then." He pulled her forward, and she obediently followed, flanked by the other two turian guards. She didn't need to ask where they were going; they'd be stupid to keep a possibly dangerous person anywhere other than lockup. She supposed that they'd leave her there to consider what she'd done while she awaited this trial. _What a fucked-up mess…At least Garrus will be okay…right?_

The question chased itself around her head until she finally voiced it.

"Will Garrus be okay?" Shepard asked.

"Can't say. Even if I did know, though, I wouldn't be allowed to tell you. Confidentiality contract." Nihlus told her.

"The muting is reversible, though, right?" She pressed, feeling panic rise in her throat.

"Sometimes." He replied shortly.

Shepard felt her stomach churn as a chill shot through her. _Sometimes…fuck. Doesn't matter what my intentions are, I'm a goddamned criminal in their eyes. No wonder…_

Suddenly, the handcuffs seemed totally reasonable.


	4. Answers

"Hello, Garrus. My name's Dr. Vesarius. Nice to meet you." The green-marked turian extended his hand, which Garrus tentatively shook. The doctor sat across from Garrus and his father in a tiny office barely big enough for the three of them and the exam table behind the doctor. Garrus had spent an hour and a half here already as another doctor ran him through a battery of tests to make sure he wasn't hurt or sick. Nomos, his father, had watched the whole thing from the sidelines, there at Garrus' insistence. Despite his presence, though, Garrus had been visibly uneasy, and Nomos silently cursed the people who had done this to his boy. What sort of horrific treatment had his boy gone through…no, he didn't want to even think about it.

Vesarius addressed him, breaking his train of thought.

"Nomos, I assume you'll be staying?"

He nodded stiffly. The doctor turned his attention back to his patient.

"Feeling okay, Garrus? No pain?"

Garrus nodded.

"Good, good. That's somewhere to start." Vesarius eyed him. "Spirits, you're skin and bones. You need to eat more. When's the last time you've eaten?"

Garrus shrugged a shoulder.

"Did that human not get you anything to eat?" Nomos growled. Garrus shook his head.

" _No?_ What do you mean, _no?_ "

"Nomos, please-"

"She hasn't taken care of my son! How _am_ I supposed to react to that?"

Vesarius held up a hand. "Let me finish, Nomos."

The elder Vakarian fell silent, fixing the doctor with a withering glare. Vesarius continued, unperturbed.

"Garrus' blood sugar levels have dropped, yes, but they're consistent with someone who hasn't eaten in eight hours rather than several days. Garrus, have you been starved before in the past?"

He shuddered and tucked his chin into his cowl.

" Did the human get you food?"

Garrus nodded.

"And you refused to eat because it was so foul."

Another affirmation.

"Nomos, it's important you understand that malnutrition is a common problem among rescued turians. They frequently only take food when they absolutely cannot stand hunger anymore, even when their previous caretakers feed them regularly. I think that's probably what we're looking at here. Is that correct, Garrus?"

Garrus nodded again.

"I thought so. Now let's move on to more important matters." Vesarius pulled up a hologram on his omni-tool. "Malnutrition is easy to fix. This, however, is not."

"I'm not a doctor. Explain that." Nomos gestured to the translucent image of the brain.

Vesarius pointed to a small, almost-opaque section of the hologram. "This is a cranial implant that we are starting to see more and more in rescued turians." The doctor held a hand out to Garrus, stopping just short of touching his face. "May I?"

Garrus confirmed with a slight bob of his head, allowing Vesarius to trace a faint scar along the side of Garrus' head with one hand. "See this scar?" Nomos nodded stiffly, waiting for the doctor to make his point. "It's located along the frontal lobe, which is the area that controls emotional behavior and higher functions. The chip interferes with those functions. As a result, your behavior, Garrus, is influenced negatively."

"Negatively?" Nomos cut in, furious. He'd had enough of the doctor's jargon-laced attempt at breaking bad news carefully. "What do you mean, negatively? Quit dancing around the damn issue and _tell_ me what's wrong!"

Vesarius sighed. "I was getting to that. Most patients with this chip have very high levels of stress hormones in their blood. The chip affects the way a person feels and reacts to fear, usually by triggering or enhancing fear reactions. We have rescued one or two patients older than you, Garrus, that we had to sedate to examine properly. The fear drives them crazy, and some have even experienced anxiety issues after we took the chips out."

"You _can_ get it out, though, right?" Nomos pressed. Garrus gave him a nervous glance.

Vesarius paused before answering. "…Yes, but removing the chip, as I have said, will affect behavior." Nomos opened his mouth to argue, but the doctor continued in a louder voice, cutting him off. "I am not in any way, shape, or form advocating to leave it in. I am merely warning you that removing the chip _will_ cause behavioral changes, anything from mood swings to violent outbursts to more chronic issues, like depression. And possibly worse. We can remove it, if that's what you want, but you need to be aware of the consequences of going through with this. Is this still what you want to do?"

"Yes." A movement caught Nomos' attention, and he glanced sideways to see Garrus shaking his head nervously.

"Before we do anything, I need your confirmation, Garrus. We won't do this without your consent. Are you or are you not willing to do this?"

The younger turian shrugged a shoulder, not making eye contact with the doctor.

"You don't know?" Nomos asked him, bewildered.

"Are you afraid?" Vesarius queried.

Garrus nodded.

"But you want the chip out."

Garrus confirmed the doctor's suspicions. Vesarius sat back with a sigh.

"Scared patients we can work with. I can give you something for the anxiety during the pre-operative procedures. How soon do you want this over with?"

"As soon as possible." Nomos told him. Garrus mutely seconded Nomos' opinion.

"We can do it as early as tomorrow morning. What do you think?"

Garrus hesitated for a moment before giving his assent. Vesarius nodded. "Okay. Then you need to come in tonight. With the state you're in, you need extra attention before any sort of surgery. Understood?"

"And what about his voice?" Nomos pressed. He didn't want his son to be stuck in the hospital any longer than absolutely necessary.

"That's an easy fix, but it will have to be repaired at some other time. I can't have someone else distracting me from my work, especially when I'm dealing with something as fragile as someone's personality, which could be affected by the tiniest of mistakes. You understand, don't you?"

Nomos sighed in assent and nodded.

"You'll be just fine." Vesarius promised. "For now, you are free to leave and explore. Get some real food in you, but remember, no alcohol. Meet me in the main part of the medical bay at 18:00 hours, and things will go from there."

Garrus stood up and practically bolted for the door. Nomos followed his son at a slower pace, but the doctor stalled them.

"Remember what I said, about removing the chip, and try to keep that in mind."

As they made their way out of the medical wing, Garrus glanced back at him, who started slightly as he saw the intense fear in his son's face. He wished he could tell his son it would be okay, but he knew he would not lie to his son. He refused to sugarcoat even the most unpleasant of truths because the nature of existence was just that; a bitter pill one had to swallow.

 _I'm sorry, son, but this is your fight._

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Sweat dripped down her back and soaked into the waistband of her pants, adding to the already unbearable itching there. She swallowed, again wishing for some water. The interrogation room felt unbearably hot, and she was drenched in her own sweat. She'd been sitting here for well over an hour, waiting for her interrogators to show up so that she could finally get out of here. She was tired of waiting. She'd been stuck in a cell for an undetermined amount of time, waiting for the aforementioned trial, only to be dragged down here (hours? Days? Weeks?) later. It was a classic interrogation technique; leave a prisoner trapped with only their own thoughts for company, and worry would drive them wild before their interrogators even got around to questioning them.

She sighed and tried to sit up straighter, the chain linking her wrists and binding her to the table stopping her short. Being bent over like this wasn't very comfortable, especially considering the furniture obviously not designed for human use and the uncomfortable mixture of high temperature and humidity. She pulled at the cuffs, trying to alleviate the pain in between her shoulders, and winced as they scraped her already raw wrists, drawing a couple drops of blood from her skin. Giving up, she leaned forward, doing her best to ignore the stabbing sensation that had developed in between her shoulder blades.

The door suddenly opened behind her, admitting two turians (by the sound of the footsteps), but she knew better than to try to turn around. Her interrogator settled in the chair facing her, his talons tapping against the table. She looked down between her own hands, eyeing the mat of scratches beneath her fingers with unease, thinking for not the first time that the turian concept of an "interview" wasn't the same as an interview conducted by humans.

"Shepard."

She finally looked up. The blue-marked male from the cargo bay sat across from her, his omni-tool up and running, his gray eyes calm but icy. A question formed on her tongue, one she hardly dared to ask. But she had to know.

"Is Garrus okay?" She forced out.

His eyes narrowed. "That is none of your business."

"For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry." She offered.

He gave her a cold, distant look. "I understand that you helped bring my son back, but that doesn't, in any way, shape, or form, mean that I should like you for it. Still, I play by my own rules. I'll give you a chance, _one chance,_ to tell me how you found him. And I will remind you that anything you say can and will be used against you."

 _Damn. I never realized how big a prick someone sounds like when they say that_. "I understand." She said, pushing back her annoyance.

"Name and occupation." He said flatly, sounding for all the world like herself or one of her C-Sec colleagues laying the pressure on during questioning.

"Erin Shepard, Citadel Security. I spent two years in Animal Control before I requested to be transferred." She supplied. "Spent four years as a cop chasing down drug smugglers, gang members, illegal dealers of various types of merchandise."

"Any military training?"

"Some. I spent a few years in the navy. Got recommended for special training, but my father made me quit. After that, I went on to C-Sec."

Her interrogator grunted, adding a note to the recording. "And I'm assuming you found my son on one of your cases."

"I was chasing down an illegal dealer, yeah. Your son was trapped in an abandoned building we'd tracked the dealers to."

"Tell me what happened."

She painstakingly recounted the unpleasant story, with the turian stopping her every few minutes and asking for her to clarify details. He seemed particularly focused on the condition she'd found Garrus in, how she'd treated him at home, and his reaction to the salarian desk attendant and batarian deliveryman, for some odd reason. She finally managed to finish her story, and a long pause stretched between them as he looked over the data he'd gathered from her. His eyes narrowed again.

" _Animal Control_." He imbued the words with venom. "What did you do for them?"

She swallowed. Of all the subjects he could have picked, this was the one she didn't want to discuss. She could have hidden the information, but they'd taken her omni-tool, and a little digging around inside would quickly reveal this less-than-savory detail about her. And she knew hiding something like that from the turians might be grounds for further investigation and suspicion.

"Rescuing abused animals." She told him. Technically, this was true; a majority of the job _was_ taking animals from irresponsible owners. It was the technical details that would cause problems with the turians.

"Did you know what you were _doing_ to _us_?" He asked, his voice cold and sharp.

"No." She answered vehemently. Nausea roiled in her gut as she thought of the dozens of illegal turians she'd "rescued" and transferred to shelters. Her interrogator snorted, looking displeased, but changed tack.

"How many turians have you killed?"

 _Oh god._ This was the one thing she didn't want to even consider now; how many "ferals" she had shot during the course of her Animal Control years. Now that she knew, she couldn't stop thinking about how many of those turians knew what was going to happen if they let her take them, choosing to attack her and essentially kill themselves rather than live as someone else's pet. She bit her tongue, and the turian gave a glance over her shoulder.

Talons dug into the back of her neck without warning, snapping her back to reality as a familiar voice hissed quietly into her ear.

"Answer the question."

Out of the corner of her eye, she recognized the tall, foreboding figure as the one who had nearly killed her at her apartment.

"I don't know," she choked out. His grip didn't loosen.

"Then guess." Her interrogator told her.

"Twenty? Thirty?" His claws gouged her skin as she twisted in his grasp, and the pain made it hard to think. "I don't know! Let go of me, you asshole!"

He shoved her head down as he stepped away, and her skull bounced off the table. She shook her head, blinking back stars. Something wet oozed down her neck, and she realized she was bleeding. Her interrogator looked up at her attacker and gave his head a small shake before returning his gaze to her. The door slid open and closed behind her.

"I was hoping Saren might give some useful insight this time, since he helped with retrieving you, but," he eyed the blood droplets staining her shirt, "he's always too rough. Especially with people like you."

"So we're playing good cop, bad cop now. You know, your apology doesn't make up for him being a total asshole. I would have told you regardless of what he did."

"You just didn't _want_ to tell me, is that it?"

"I figured you'd eviscerate me on the spot if you knew. You know, since you haven't been particularly friendly. I don't blame you," she elaborated as he glared at her, "I'd just rather keep my guts on the inside, thanks."

"Right." He said sardonically, getting to his feet. "I think we're done here. Your trial will take place in a few days, after we've had time to verify your story. Don't do anything stupid until then."

A pair of guards strode up on either side of her, unhooking her handcuffs from the table and pulling her to her feet.

"See to her injuries and get her cleaned up." Her interrogator told the guards. "She smells like a varren that's been rolling in garbage."

She scowled at him, but caught a whiff of herself as the guards moved her towards the door, nearly gagging at the stench of sweat, body odor, and unwashed clothing.

 _Ugh. He may be an asshole, but he's right._

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A/N: I've decided I need to stop nitpicking over this chapter and publish it. So, for your delectation, here 'tis. The next chapter will have to be revised to fit this; I've noticed some discrepancies that need to be fixed before posting. In the next chapter, Shepard must defend herself against accusations and Garrus starts regaining his old personality. And he's pissed as _hell._ (Understandable, of course, though.)

I would love a review if you like it or simply if you have some constructive criticism to share. Thank you to everyone who has supported this story by following or favoriting so far. Your interest helps me know that you want more, and as long as you still want it, I'll keep delivering.

For those of you who like my stuff, keep an eye out for my upcoming fic, which features an extended First Contact War scenario. Shepard and our favorite turian sniper stumble across each other, and they must rely on each other for survival in a dire scenario. But what will become of the pair upon their rescue?


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